


When You Wake Up

by Badgers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Animal Behaviour, Bros being awesome, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scott is perfect, Stiles got the bite, Unbeta'd, Warning for tears, Werewolf Turning, Wolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgers/pseuds/Badgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at me," He ordered, and Stiles suddenly found himself lurching to make eye contact with the other. Scott's eyes flashed a bright, jarring red that Stiles felt to the pit of himself. It was odd because he'd seen those eyes a million times before, but he'd never felt them bone deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because the want of it hit me like a freight train and now look at that, there she blows. The summary will probably change in the wake of better text from Chapters 2 and 3. 
> 
> If Stiles crying makes you cry, you will cry. Sorry.

Waking up, he felt different.

The first thing he noticed, above all else, was that when he told his arm to move it did. That completely floored him, and he sat up in shock (amazed that he even could) because his body was listening to him. No one else was. There was no extra voice in his head, picking through his thoughts and pushing him down. There was no one else moving his eyes or clenching his fists or controlling his lungs. He sucked in a deep breath just because he could and that was the second thing he noticed.

When he breathed in, a harsh, broken action through his nose, it brought in a plethura of scents and feelings that left Stiles feeling dizzy. Over everything, he could smell something so agonizingly familiar that it was a wonder he didn't get right away that it was Scott. Under that he could smell sweat, magnified from what he usually smelled only faintly, along with something unidentifiable. He layed back down and turned to press his face into the pillow he'd been using, the familiar smell (Scott) making his chest swell with something more than air.

That was the third thing he noticed.

There was a pull in his chest past where the scent hit, something aching and demanding that had him sitting up again, pillow squeezed against his chest, calling for Scott. His voice cracked, throat feeling raw and disused, and he wondered why, when the Nogitsune seemed to love the sound of Stiles' voice.

"Scott?" He called again, managing the whole word. The fourth thing he noticed was sound. There were noises all around him. He could hear traffic and heartbeats, buzzing noises outside the window, owls, his own breathing, slowly quickening in hysteria because _where's_ _Scott? Did he leave?_

Among the sounds he heard footsteps running up the stairs, a steady rhythm of pounding weight that made him flinch. He hugged the pillow even tighter to his chest, still relishing in the fact that he could- that his body was listening. He didn't care about the hearing or the smells, it was the face that he could blink and shift and move.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, and Stiles could hear the person on the other side catch their breath, calm themselves down. Stiles took a chance, lifted his chin and sniffed, and his heart started pounding when he smelled the same layer of familiarity that coated the bed.

"Scott, please, come on," He said before he could help it.

The door opened, then, and Scott came in looking sheepish. The look didn't last, though, because when those dark brown eyes found Stiles Scott's entire face absolutely lit up.

"Hey, man," He breathed, the words coated in hesitancy, in relief. Stiles stared at him until Scott shifted awkwardly on his feet and came over to sit next to him on the bed. One of Stiles' hands abandoned Scott's pillow in favour of the real deal, lacing their fingers together tightly enough that had Stiles still been human- _had Stiles still been human_ \- he would've bruised.

They sat like that for a while, Stiles gripping Scott like a lifeline and Scott letting him. Neither boy said anything, and the only sounds in the room were their breathing and their heartbeats, both of which were considerably faster on Stiles' part. Half an hour, maybe longer, passed in the silence, before Stiles finally built up the nerve to ask questions.

"How long have I been out?"

"Uh," Scott glanced at his clock, though when he answered Stiles couldn't figure why, "Maybe a week. Dr. Deaton says it's because your body was stressed from the- the possession, and the change was.. your body was really tired, man."

Stiles nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest, crushing the pillow in the fold of his body. Scott shuffled over further up the bed to sit next to Stiles.

"So I'm a werewolf now?"

"It was the only way we could find to get you back," Scott sounded pained, regretful, "I know you never wanted to be, and if there was anything else-"

"Nah," Stiles cut in, forcing a smile onto his face (one that almost became real with the thought that it was really him smiling), "I'd rather be running around howling and eating little forest critters than torturing and killing all of my friends. You know, given a choice."

"You and I both know that wasn't you," Scott said sharply, and Stiles almost lurched with a sudden jolt of power that tingled down his spine and up through his gut into his throat. _Yes, Scott,_ he almost wanted to say.

"It was me enough," Stiles countered.

"No, it was a jerk in your body," Scott rolled his eyes, like he'd had this conversation a million times, and for all Stiles knew he had, "The Nogitsune was running around doing all of those horrible things, not you, so shut up."

Stiles nodded, even if he didn't completely believe it, because it seemed like Scott needed him to agree. He wasn't the only one in the room that had been through absolute hell during the possession. Scott looked drained. He was pale and tired looking, bags under his eyes that almost matched Stiles', a dimness in his eyes that hadn't quite disappeared.

"Don't think just because you're my Alpha now that means I'm gonna start kissing your furry ass."

"Your ass is furry now, too, dude."

"I'm pretty sure your status as Alpha makes your ass, like, at least ten times furrier."

"How do you figure?" Scott laughed, nudging Stiles with his shoulder.

"You're more wolfy than me, which means you're hairier. It's just how it is, bro."

Scott rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. That was good. Stiles was smiling, too, unable to help himself in the blinding brightness that was his best friend. It was impossible not to smile when Scott was, it was like trying to ignore the sun.

"How do you feel?" Scott asked.

"Like I can move, for one. I'm not as sore as I thought I'd be."

"Werewolf healing," Scott grinned, "Stiff muscles aren't really a big issue when your body regenerates itself like every four hours."

"That is so convenient," Stiles snorted, "I can also hear, like, everything. Which is annoying. Can you turn it off?"

Scott grimaced, "Not for a while, no. You just gotta learn to block it out, man."

Stiles nodded, and they fell back into silence. Scott seemed to sense that Stiles wasn't done, but was trying to build himself up to asking what he really needed to, and stayed thankfully silent. He sat next to Stiles, letting the paler boy clutch his hand like a lifeline, like an anchor.

"When's the full moon?" Stiles asked.

"In a few days. We've got time to plan something, but worst comes to worst, I'll be there to control you."

"And, uh... until then?"

"Until then I'm here anyway, and after. I'll make sure you don't slip up."

Stiles turned to look at his best friend, who looked so sincere, so self assured, that Stiles had to look away again.

"I'm scared my eyes are gonna be blue," He said plainly, and he could feel Scott tense next to him, could feel his heart beat thud roughly before Scott forced it back to normal.

"I don't think they will be," Scott offered, "But if you're- if you wanna know, we could just see right now."

"I don't want to be reminded all the time, Scott, o-of what I did. Of what I did to you." He could hear himself choking up, and wanted to hit himself. Scott, though, perfect, wonderful Scott, just wrapped his arm around Stiles so that their hands were clasped above his heart, his other arm wrapping around to bury his hand in Stiles' hair and pull him into his chest. Stiles felt the heat coming off of his Alpha, could hear his steady, strong heartbeat and relished it. He felt safe in his arms, just like he always had.

Scott started rocking him like a distressed child, and Stiles couldn't find it in himself to tell him to stop; it felt too necessary.

"You aren't a killer, Stiles," Scott said with such a solid conviction, Stiles believed it, "You didn't hurt me, you didn't hurt anyone. You've been used, and it's not your fault- none of this is your fault. Please, Stiles, none of that was-"

Scott pulled away enough to look at Stiles, and Stiles almost whined at the space suddenly between them. "Look at me," He ordered, and Stiles suddenly found himself lurching to make eye contact with the other. Scott's eyes flashed a bright, jarring red that Stiles felt to the pit of himself. It was odd because he'd seen those eyes a million times before, but he'd never felt them bone deep.

He could pinpoint right when his eyes shifted, even without the sudden surprise that flooded Scott's face. Everything became sharper, clearer, like if reality had high def. He could see the pores on Scott's face, could see the muscles in his jaw tense in slow motion as he pressed his teeth together. Stiles looked up into Scott's eyes again and he could see his iris move when Scott looked over at the same time. It was absolutely incredible.

"Stiles," He said seriously, unwrapping his arm from around Stiles. Stiles let their hands part silently, even though he wanted so much to just keep holding on.

"Does it look bad?" He asked, because he knew- he knew- that they were a chilly, soulless blue, and he knew what that meant.

"Just, uh, just go look."

When Stiles didn't move, Scott stood from the bed and pulled Stiles up with him, leading him by the hand to the bathroom. Stiles followed hesitantly, knuckles white in the death grip he had on Scott's hand. Scott flicked on the light and gently pushed Stiles toward the mirror.

Stiles looked up, and he found himself staring into large, golden eyes.

"Oh my God," He whispered.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, Scott."

"Yeah, Stiles," Scott grinned behind him, looking absolutely tickled.

"Scott, they're not- It wasn't m..." His vision blurred a little bit, and he was confused until he realized he was looking through tears that had rushed up into life. Scott didn't say anything when he scrubbed them away, or when a hiccup forced its way up his throat. Scott was a cool dude.

"Scott," He croaked, and he didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what he was trying to say. 'Scott' seemed to summarize a lot of feelings.

The other boy took his hand again, tugging him into an embrace that shook the tension from Stiles' body. From this angle, he could still see his eyes reflected back at him in the mirror, a glowing, warm gold that looked just like Scott's had.

Another silence followed the revelation that Stiles wasn't a murderer. In the time it took for Stiles to get his voice back, to work around the lump in his throat, Scott had led him back to the bed and settled their bodies in a comfortable position on the mattress, Scott turned to face Stiles with the other boy's head layed back against his chest. Stiles was holding his hand in both of his like it was keeping him tethered to the ground.

"Scott?" His voice was still weak, but he managed the word, and in response his best friend held him tighter, a deep, wolfish grumbling in his chest. The sound seemed to comfort Stiles more than he thought it should have.

"You're gonna be alright, Stiles. We're all gonna be totally okay."

It was too much. It was all completely too much. He felt himself completely crumble in Scott's arms, body jerking with sobs that seemed to come from nowhere. His head fell back against Scott's collar and he wheezed, eyes clenching shut to fight off the hot tears forcing their way out. His entire body felt too hot, but he thought if Scott let go he'd lose it.

Scott was shushing him, rocking him back and forth and trying to calm him down. The gesture made him cry harder, one of his hands flailing around blindly for Scott's other hand. It found it, wrapping around three fingers awkwardly and holding them to his chest, keeping his friend's arms around his body as if there was any chance he'd let go.

Scott was still mumbling reassurances in his ear, but Stiles couldn't understand them. The words melted away and all he could hear past the weak, desperate, wet noises in his own throat was Scott's voice, soft but stern, giving him something to hold on to. It suddenly hit him that he was laying in the arms of someone who had done so, so much for him, had defied and pushed past all logic to get him back, to fix him, to save him. Scott, wonderful, perfect Scott risked everyone, and the thought was suffocating, just for him.

"I'm sorry," He gasped, still clinging, but scrambling back to sit up against Scott, to look at him.

"Don't be sorry," Scott whispered, eyes clenching shut. He leaned his forehead against the side of Stiles' head, nose bumping the taller boy's cheek, "Don't even be sorry for what happened. I should be sorry, man." Stiles choked on one of his sobs, the sound becoming a wet gurgle in his throat. Scott was apologizing, of all things, because that's what Scott did. No matter how much Stiles fucked up, Scott was always going to forgive him, and find some way to blame himself for whatever the hell had happened.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Stiles laughed, words dampened with spite and tears, regardless of how spiteless Stiles actually felt.

"For turning you," Scott mumbled into his neck, "You never wanted this- we should've found another way, and now you're so upset, I don't know what-"

Stiles almost screamed. He could feel it bubbling up in his throat like vomit, stretching and filling the back of his mouth with a terrible acidic tang. Instead, he turned around completely in Scott's arms, chest to chest, finally releasing his hands, and kissed the daylights out of his Alpha.

It was uncomfortable. It was wet, and awkward and Stiles' nose pushed painfully into Scott's. Their teeth clacked together and he could feel a spit bubble from his breakdown pop on Scott's mouth but he doubted the other minded, because that's how Scott was. The kiss wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but Stiles felt something burst in his chest as Scott's arms wrapped so tightly around his ribs he was worried the air would leave his lungs.

He was still crying, and he doubted he'd stop crying any time soon. It was embarrassing, but Stiles would worry about it later. A hiccup broke up into Scott's mouth and the other pushed forward into the kiss, like he could force Stiles' sadness away with his tongue. The gesture was appreciated, but Stiles pulled away. His head went to rest in the nape of Scott's neck, and he desperately tried to make his shoulders stop shaking.

"Stiles?"

"Can we talk about it later?" He begged, tightening the grip he had around Scott's neck. Scott tensed, but nodded, and then they were shifting down the bed to lay down more comfortably, Scott's arms still air tight around Stiles' chest. Anchoring him.

Stiles lurched, biting back sound, and Scott rubbed his back until he didn't feel like he'd fall apart at the seams.


	2. In the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt everything change- the smells, the sounds, the feel of the wood, everything. It all heightened immeasurably and Stiles relished in the wash of thrill that flooded through his chest, the same that had him throwing his head back and releasing a long, incredible howl straight into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank all of you so so so so much for the wonderful comments and kudos you left! It really spurred me on to getting this out as quickly as I did! Sorry for the wait, though (and for the badness of this chapter wow sorry)! I hope you enjoy : D 
> 
> Sadly no kisses in this chapter, but there's heckerloads of cuddles so you'll eventually forgive me.

"What if this doesn't work?" Stiles grimaced, pacing around Derek's loft with his hands tugging at his hair, "What if I get loose or won't listen and end up hurting someone? Why don't we just lay low, stay in for the night, huh? Have a nice, cozy, non-lethal puppy pile in Derek's depressing loft. He has a nice big bed to do it on, too.  
  
"Werewolves don't do puppy piles," The aforementioned werewolf scowled, leaning against a beam with his arms cross, looking angry at the world. 

"You totally do, and you know it- and I know it, being a werewolf myself. Asshole."  
  
"Stiles," Scott frowned.  
  
"All I'm saying is better to be cooped up in here than out there mauling children or something," Stiles reasoned.

"You aren't gonna maul any children," Scott sighed, rubbing his fingers across his brow. He had been arguing with Stiles about this for half an hour, he and Derek reassuring over and over that between the two of them, there was no way Stiles would get the chance to do anything outside of running around in the woods like a happy werewolf.  
  
Stiles threw up this hands, clenching them in the air like he actually wanted to be clenching them around Scott's neck, "You don't know that!"  
  
"Stiles," Derek snapped, sounding completely done with the conversation, "Scott's an Alpha, and I used to be. Isaac's a pretty powerful beta. There's no way between the three of us that you'll get any chance to maul anything."  
  
Damn him and his logic. No matter what counter argument they came up with, though, Stiles couldn't shake the feeling that out there, wolfed out and high on moonbeams, he was going to hurt someone. Even now he was feeling antsy, trapped in his own skin. He wanted to rip himself apart and run away, be outside, out of this tiny space. It was driving him crazy.  
  
He couldn't think of anything to say, though. It made sense. He knew no matter what he said, he was still going to run through he preserve tonight, sideburns and all. The part of him- the new part, the one with glowing eyes- that needed that tensed in anticipation, heartbeat pounding against his chest.  
  
"You guys'll look out for me, right?" He asked unnecessarily, and even though he addressed them both, he looked right at Scott.  
  
"Of course, man. I wouldn't let you do anything you'd regret."  
  
Stiles wanted to remind him that he'd been doing things he would regret for weeks, but he couldn't bring himself to say it, because then Scott would get that tired, pained look on his face that seemed like it had etched itself into the surface of his skin.  
  
Whatever ever he might have said otherwise, he didn't get the chance. The loft doors dragged open loudly and Isaac strolled in like he owned the place, Allison close behind him. Isaac didn't look at him, eyes straight ahead on Scott, but Allison, the saint that she was, offered a friendly smile to the newest werewolf in the room, coming over to stand by him while Isaac went right over to Scott.  
  
"Hey, man," Scott greeted quietly, "Are you sure you're feeling up to this? I can ask the twins to come instead."  
  
Isaac shook his head, leaning into Scott's space to reply lowly, "I'm fine to run tonight. I don't trust that thi- Stiles not to do anything, and I'm not just gonna sit out and leave you alone."  
  
"I can hear you, you know!" Stiles yelled over, glaring. Allison stopped talking abruptly, and Stiles realized with a pang that she'd been trying to speak to him, and he'd been ignoring her.  
  
"You were meant to," Isaac growled. Stiles growled right back, full moon far to close on the horizon for him to hold back his instincts. It was absolutely awful, feeling like he had no control over himself- again.

"That's enough," Scott snapped, moving to stand between the two of them, his back to Stiles, "He's not going to hurt me, or anyone else. I can take him if I have to."  
  
"It's not a question of whether you can take him," Derek spoke up, and everyone's eyes shot to him. He didn't look deterred- if anything, he looked bored with where the conversation was going, "It doesn't matter if you could fight him off, Scott, it's if you would."  
  
Scott looked confused at that, and Isaac took it as an opportunity to butt in again, "I don't think you could bring yourself to hurt him, even a little."  
  
"That isn't the point!" Scott growled, and Isaac had the decency to look cowed by the sound, "I'll stop him if he does something, but he won't! If you're going to spend the whole night shooting him weird looks and making comments then you can go!"  
  
It was quiet after that. Stiles stood behind Allison looking at Scott with wide eyes, watching the Alpha walk over to the couch and flop down, shoulders tense. Allison seemed like the only one in the room not affected by the short argument, aside from Derek, and she took Stiles' hand with a smile to lead him over to the couch. He went without complaint, giving her a grateful smile.  
  
"I'm gonna wait for you guys up here," She told him softly, "I'm driving Isaac home so Scott can stay with you."  
  
Stiles nodded, giving her his best smile. It seemed like Allison was the only one aside from Scott who really believed the Nogitsune's influence was completely gone. It may have been their connection, her having experienced the darkness with them, or it may have just been the fact that Allison was completely awesome. Either way, she was treating him normally (if a little delicately) and he was grateful.  
  
Maybe Isaac was treating him normally, too. The guy had always been a complete asshole.  
  
Scott shifted next to him on the couch, drawing Stiles' attention. The alpha looked absolutely wired, like he was a second away from screaming but was too tired to do so, and Stiles didn't hesitate to reach across the couch and grab his hand. Scott jumped, even though Stiles knew he'd sensed the moment Stiles moved, but he appreciated the gesture.  
  
"You okay, man?" He asked. Scott nodded.  
  
"Yeah, I'm just tired. Don't worry about me."  
  
They didn't let go of each other's hands until the sun was on the brim of the horizon, the last dregs of warm colours slowly fading to make way for night. Stiles hadn't noticed it before, but the closer the full moon drew, the more restless he felt, the more restless the other wolves looked. Scott kept glancing at the window, tensing and then forcing himself to relax, over and over. Isaac was pacing in front of the glass, his steps lining up with his heartbeat, growling every once in a while. Derek seemed more controlled, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. Stiles himself kept shifting, folding his legs, craning his neck to see outside. The only one in the room not acting like a complete spazz was Allison, who seemed perfectly comfortable being the only human in a room full of werewolves on the full moon.  
  
It was long until Scott was standing up, dragging Stiles up with him.  
  
"Come on."  
  
Stiles had a hard time swallowing around the knot in the back of his throat. It seemed to be getting bigger the closer he got to the door, and his grip on Scott's hands tightened without his own volition. Scott gave him a steady smile in response, tugging him closer until they were walking nearly rib to rib. Stiles grinned at him and wrapped his arm around Scott's shoulders so that their hands ended up clasped over Scott's chest, a mirror of how they'd held each other nights before. Both of them ignored Isaac's scoff, too content to care.  
  
His body was on autopilot as the group made their waay out of the loft, across the lot, and toward Scott's bike. Apparently Stiles and Scott were going to drive to the preserve to conserve some energy, while Derek and Isaac ran alongside. Truthfullly, Stiles would rather have been running. There was so much tension in his joints he felt like he would explode, a steady thrumming in his chest that deafened him, throbbing in his ears and blocking out all other sounds. He clenched his eyes and Scott herded him onto the bike and let himself tuck his forehead into the back of Scott's neck, wrapping his arms around his ribs and holding on tight. Scott laughed and they were off.  
  
It wasn't enough. It didn't feel satisfying like it usually did for Stiles, riding Scott's stupid dirt bike, not when he knew, now, that he could go faster, he could feel freer. He never understood how Scott was so comfortable on his bike, how he could just get on and go without flinching, but now he did. The bike wasn't anything in comparison to the maelstrom in his limbs, what would be a hurricane.  
  
"Scott," He gasped, breath hitting Scott's neck wetly.  
  
"I know, dude," He laughed, revving the engine, "We're almost there. Don't do anything dumb."  
  
"If either of us are gonna do something dumb, it's gonna be you and you know it," He snapped back, grinning, face still buried in Scott's shoulder. Scott was nice enough to let the bike stutter in retaliation, and he laughed when Stiles scrambled to hold on again.  
  
Scott hadn't lied about almost being there. It was maybe ten minutes before Stiles felt the bike beneath him slow and they were pulling up in front of the chained off entrance to the preserve. Stiles looked up to see Isaac and Derek already waiting a ways off, behind some trees. They were wolfed out and bright eyed, Isaac considerably more so, looking eager to get going. Scott waited for Stiles to scramble off of the bike before he slid off smoothly, leaving his helmet dangling off of one of the handles.  
  
"You're getting slower," Isaac laughed when Scott and Stiles finally wandered over, his smile looking fearsome on his furry face.  
  
"I had cargo," Scott shrugged.  
  
Scott kept a tight grip on his hand as they walked, going deeper and deeper into the wood. Stiles was twitching in his hold, trying not to rip his hand away and burst into a run right then and there, but they were trying to get further away from everyone before the moon rose and Stiles lost control, which he could understand. They were four miles in before Stiles felt the first shiver go up his spine, a whine leaving his throat.  
  
"It's okay, Stiles," Scott breathed, shaking his head like a dog drying off, canine features washing smoothly over his face. He gave Stiles a sharp smile and maybe it was the glowing red gaze of his alpha that finally had Stiles' face crunching into the shift, eyes a blazing gold. He felt everything change- the smells, the sounds, the feel of the wood, everything. It all heightened immeasurably and Stiles relished in the wash of thrill that flooded through his chest, the same that had him throwing his head back and releasing a long, incredible howl straight into the sky.  
  
His excited screaming was joined by three others, and after that, for Stiles, it gets a little fuzzy.

* * *

He shifted, and felt something stab into his hip.

"Ah, ah, ah," He whined, trying to get away from whatever was trying to shank him. He found he couldn't move all too well, though, because his body was trapped in something warm and snoring, something that smelled a lot like Scott.  
  
Scratch that, it was Scott.  
  
"Dude," Stiles grunted, "I need to move. The ground is trying to stab me. Let go."  
  
Scott growled and, if anything, held him tigher, one arm wrapped around his ribs, the other around his neck, holding his face against his shoulder. His best friend was like a giant, sleepy bear trap.  
  
"Fine. If you aren't going to let me go, move me over. It's uncomfortable," Stiles groused.  
  
Scott rumbled delightedly, the dick, but acquiesced, and rolled them both over so that Stiles was on the other side of him, still pressed as tightly against his body.  
  
"Thanks buddy," Stiles said dryly. Scott mumbled something and went back to sleep. Jerk.  
  
Stiles, though, was completely awake. He pried his head away from Scott's neck, earning a groan, and twisted his head to look around. They were laying in a clear patch somewhere in the preserve, and judging by the light barely reaching through the leaves it was barely morning. Some time in the night Stiles had lost his jacket and shirt, as well as his shoes, and was left with just a flimsy pare of pants to cover him from the chill- as if it'd be a problem with Scott wrapped so snugly around him. Scott had managed to keep most of his clothing on, and was only missing his button down, which Stiles could see hanging from a tree branch about fifty feet away.  
  
They were also both completely filthy, covered in leaves and dirt and God knows what else.  
  
Despite the fact that nearly every inch of him was crusted with _something_ , he was distinctly aware of the fact that on not one of those inches could he see blood.  
  
"Scott," He said sharply, waggling one of his hands, both of which were stuck between their chests, trying to get Scott to wake the hell up, "Scott, dude."  
  
Scott groaned.  
  
"Scott, wake the hell up," Stiles snapped, leaning forward and biting his nose. Hard.  
  
"Dude!" Scott jerked back, his arms nearly unwinding from Stiles, but they held firm. Scott's eyes crossed to look down at his nose and he whimpered, "What was that for, man?"  
  
"I can't move my hands," Stiles supplied with a smile, wigging what he could of his hands to emphasize that no, he couldn't.  
  
"You didn't have to bite me," Scott whined, tugging Stiles in tighter and pressing his mouth into his friend's shoulder, closing his eyes, "Go back to sleep," He mumbled.  
  
"What did we do last night?" Stiles asked, ignoring Scott's full body wriggle of irritation.  
  
"We didn't do anything, man," He groaned, "You ran around sniffing things and climbing trees before you tried to wrestle Derek and he knocked you out."  
  
Stiles gaped, "He knocked me out?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You let him knock me out?"  
  
Scott shrugged. He didn't look very sorry about it. Stiles bared his teeth and threw his leg over Scott's waist, pushing off to roll over onto Scott, straddling his hips. Scott looked shocked.  
  
"Yeah, not so big and bad now that I have your stupid wolfy strength too, now, are y-AH!"  
  
Stiles looked up at Scott, growling, where the darker boy was hovering over him, having reversed their positions.  
  
"I'm still stronger than you, dude," Scott laughed.  
  
"God forbid you not be, with that inferiority complex you've got going."  
  
"Inferior to what exactly?" Scott smirked, crossing his arms and letting himself lay on top of Stiles' chest, chin resting on his forearms as he looked down at the boy.  
  
"Scott, come on. Look at this. There's a lot here to be jealous of."  
  
"Like your flawless skin and perfectly coifed hair?"  
  
Stiles' hands rose to start petting along Scott's back, "Exactly."  
  
"You're deluded," Scott snorted.  
  
"Oooh, someone's been using their word of the day calender."  
  
Scott didn't retort (probably because he had no words in the face of Stiles' wit), and he seemed content to just lay on top of Stiles, body sinking between his legs like he were built to fit there. It was a nice feeling, unsurprising and extremely comfortable.  
  
Like this, Stiles could drift. He stared up at the light filtering through the leaves, slowly becoming brighter as the morning wore on, and just let himself bask in the utter okayness of everything. His eyes fluttered closed when he felt Scott's hand lace into his, convinced that he would spend the rest of his life holding onto his hand if these past few days were any indication of how inclined he was to it. And that was a nice thought.  
  
"You okay, bro?" Scott asked, words muffled by the skin of Stiles' chest.  
  
"Yeah, man. I'm good."


	3. Please Don't Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He started his jeep without a thought, pulling back onto the road almost robotically and driving straight toward his house, not too far away. He felt sick, and not like he would throw up, though that was an approaching option. It was more like his limbs felt hollow and sick, like nausea had spread from his stomach and throat all the way down to his hands. His claws ripped through the wheel cover as he tightened his grip. Don't get upset. Calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ  
> Hi!! Oh my God, sorry! So fucking sorry! I'd give you guys excuses and tell you why it took so long but it doesn't really matter, because I kept you waiting, and I'm so sorry. This chapter is more of a half chapter, but it isn't the end. I figured I'd give you guys something to hold you over because I SWEAR I am writing the last chapter as we speak. I don't have constant internet, so I don't know when it'll update, but I promise this is my number one priority right now. I'm trying to get my shit together. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

It had been about a week since Stiles' first full moon, and he was officially the campy werewolf in the pack. Scott still hadn't stopped teasing him about being knocked out, reminding him (or rather, relaying to him) that even before then, he'd just tumbled around in the dirt, making stupid noises, which, lame. Apparently He'd tried to take all of his clothes off, and the others had barely managed to get him to leave his pants on. That was embarrassing.  
  
Another thing Scott hadn't done, if the subject is apt to change, is talk to Stiles about what happened the night he woke up from being bitten. At first he understood, because first of all, Stiles had been the one to ask if they could talk about it later, and secondly, as much as Stiles didn't like it, the full moon had been way more important than any odd tingles in Stiles' pants- or heart. After that, though, when they'd woken up the next morning, Stiles kind of rightfully assumed they'd discuss it, and maybe even get on to some more kissing.  
  
It wasn't like it needed a lot of discussing on his part in the first place. ' _Hey man, I think while you were running around saving my life and stuff I may have fallen the teeniest bit in love with you (maybe even before then). No, I know, it's weird, 'cause you'd think if I had the gall to have feelings for you, they'd be a product of the fact that through out my life you're the one who's been most important to me barring my dad, but I guess the rippling muscles you only got, like, this year were kind of a deal changer._ '  
  
As it were, there seemed to be more talk of werewolves than feelings and kisses and junk, and while Stiles was willing to sit through any conversation about the right brand of dog shampoo at least once, he was tired of it.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Stiles jumped, twisting around to peer over the back of Scott's couch to Isaac, who looked to be just coming in. He tossed his bag over to the foot of the stairs and slammed the door behind him, walking past him into the kitchen.  
  
"Waiting for Scott, not that that's your business," Stiles finally replied, frowning.  
  
"Scott's not gonna be home tonight, Marmaduke. Get off of our couch."  
  
"Oh, dog jokes? Really? That's very clever, Isaac. Gold star."  
  
Isaac shrugged, like he didn't really give a hoot whether or not Stiles approved of his insults, and ducked into the fridge to grab an apple. Who keeps apples in the fridge?  
  
"So where is Scott, if he's not here?" Stiles asked, standing up from his spot on the couch and meandering into the kitchen.  
  
"He's with Kira. They're on a date or something, I dunno. He said not to wait up."  
  
Scott was on a date?  
  
"Scott's on a date?"  
  
Isaac grinned, "Yeah, and not with you. That sucks, man."  
  
Stiles pushed down the violent urge to punch Isaac in the face and wipe that stupid, smug grin off of his chiseled face. What the hell was Scott doing on a date? Of course, the dude was allowed to go out with pretty girls, sure, that was fine, but not after two weeks of holding Stiles' hand and giving him heated looks from the other side of the room every five damn minutes, and especially not after kissing him. That jerk.  
  
Isaac was still smiling at him, watching him slowly turn redder and redder. Stiles had to clench his fists to his sides to keep from smacking him, "Do you know where they went?"  
  
"I might," Isaac shrugged, turning away from Stiles and taking a huge bite of his apple as he walked away. Jesus, Stiles hated that guy.  
  
Though, he might have a few bad vibes to send Scott's way, after what he'd just learned. He growled, and felt his fangs press into his lip, a line of blood falling down his chin, and he cursed, grabbing a papertowel from the Island. Stupid lycanthropy.

Stupid Scott.  
  
Stiles wiped his mouth with a quick, uncareful motion, not even sure if he got all of the blood off, and tossed it into the trash bin. He didn't loiter any further in the kitchen, padding through the living room and out the front door. He could hear Isaac laughing even when he got outside and sneered, not wasting another second when he climbed into his jeep, started her up, and drove away.  
  
For a brief moment, Stiles contemplated using his new sniffer to find Scott, follow his stank trail right to the scene of the crime, but then what? He'd make a stupid huge scene and then Scott would probably be mad at him for ruining his date.  
  
But what right did Scott have to be mad, when it was Stiles whose chest felt like it were about to tear open?  
  
He pushed down the anger and moved on, aware that it was probably the dumb wolf in his brain telling him to go kill Kira and then piss on Scott or something to mark his territory. The thing had been making him angrier and angrier and he really just needed to calm down before he went ballistic and drove into a tree.  
  
Why would Scott do that? After Stiles had kissed him, after they'd woken up in the woods and spent hours just holding each other, after everything? Sure, Stiles hadn't really told him in so many words that that wasn't okay, that they were a thing now and that Scott couldn't date. Stiles hadn't even told him that he maybe kind of loved him yet. In fact, the more Stiles thought about it, the less angry he was, and the more distressed.  
  
Stiles had been the one to kiss Scott. He hadn't asked, he just did it, and Scott was probably just trying to comfort a psychotic friend by letting him do it. Scott hadn't even seemed too into it, really. Maybe he'd kissed him back out of pity.  
  
That, and they'd always been intimate, ever since Stiles could remember. They were always touching in some way, leaning against each other, holding hands, grabbing, hugging, pushing, tugging, petting, in some way. Stiles even kissed Scott's cheek sometimes- as a joke, but he still did it, even before the muscles and the howling and all the shit that had started happening because Stiles convinced his best friend to go out at night to look for a dead body.  
  
So Stiles had read too much into it? He'd convinced himself that Scott's acquiescence was want. He'd looked at Scott's loving eyes and had stupidly twisted something platonic into something romantic. That was probably why Scott wasn't talking about it, because he didn't want to let Stiles down, because that's how Scott was. _Jerk_.  
  
Stiles felt his vision blur, and realized he needed to pull over. He did, and wiped at his face, inhaling harshly when he felt a wetness on his cheeks. He'd been crying a lot more often recently, and he didn't know if that had anything to do with the emotional mess the Nogitsune had left him or the fact that, more than ever, he had reasons to cry. Evil fox spirit, lycanthropy, teen heart break- it was practically the mailing list for crying. Stiles had it all.  
  
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he choked on the air that tried to reach his lungs in surprise. He pulled his phone out and clenched his eyes shut, trying to rid them of tears so he could see, and the bitter laugh that came out when he saw that Scott had texted hurt his chest.  
  
 **Scott** : _hey man. where r u?_  
  
Stiles stared at the text. Why was Scott texting him while he was on a date? Shouldn't he have been lavishing Kira with his attention or something? Isn't that what you did on dates? Before he could really clear his head, he found himself typing out a response.  
  
 _Why are you texting me? Arent you on a date?_  
  
He hit send and tossed his phone into the passenger seat. Almost imediately after he was scrambling to grab his phone again, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Why would he send that? That was so shitty! In his mind he conjured up an image of Scott, all happy and smiley like Scott was wont to be, opening up the text from Stiles and imediately starting to cry. Which may have been a bit over dramatic, but Scott could read his moods like crazy, even through text, and he would automatically know that Stiles was mad at him and spam his phone with apologies-  
  
 **Scott** : _who told u?_  
  
Stiles stared at the reply for a full minute, and then turned his phone off. So Scott was on a date, and Stiles wasn't supposed to know. Scott was keeping it from Stiles for a reason, which meant he had a reason.  
Which meant that Stiles' theory about Scott just being adorably oblivious flew right out the window.  
  
He started his jeep without a thought, pulling back onto the road almost robotically and driving straight toward his house, not too far away. He felt sick, and not like he would throw up, though that was an approaching option. It was more like his limbs felt hollow and sick, like nausea had spread from his stomach and throat all the way down to his hands. His claws ripped through the wheel cover as he tightened his grip. Don't get upset. Calm down.  
  
He'd never given Scott enough credit for being able to hold the shift back, that was for sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me. The fourth and final chapter will be out soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are actually greatly appreciated, but obviously not mandatory. Thank you for reading!


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